


Grave Spaces

by PolarisNocturnal



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Major Character Injury, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-29 22:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10145762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarisNocturnal/pseuds/PolarisNocturnal
Summary: They finally found Percival Graves after he was locked away by Grindelwald.





	1. Black

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is only in Tina's perspective because I wanted to get a feel for Graves' injuries from an outside source. The rest of the story will be told following Graves.

Darkness.

That’s all he knew now. There was no sense of time. No sense of purpose. Percival Graves could barely breathe. Could barely think.

He was trapped somewhere… Screaming had done nothing in the beginning.

It pressed against him so tightly, he wasn’t able to move, and he couldn’t tell where his skin and the walls of his prison met. He couldn’t move his fingers, he couldn’t move his head to the side. He was stuck. It was so tight that his chest couldn’t expand. For what felt like forever since he was shoved in here… he had passed out. Woken up with a headache.

Questions were asked.

He refused.

And then agonizing pain.

Then nothing again.

He passed out again when he panicked and couldn’t pull air into his lungs.

This repeated several times. Before no longer the voice would visit him, and no longer did the pain came. He had managed to breathe enough to stop passing out, but sleep came harder and harder as he tried to block out what was left of his small world.

How long would he be like this?

How long until they found him?

Until he could break free?

 

* * *

 

 

 

How long had it been?

How long had Director Graves been missing?

Tina Goldstein questioned this since Newt had left on the boat. Her mind was a whirlwind of a mess of thoughts. Thoughts about Newt’s return. About losing her friend Mister Kowalski. Her sister being upset about the loss of the No-Maj man’s memories (Although she had the inkling feeling Queenie had something up her sleeve) and of course the biggest thought that kept bubbling to the surface.

How long had Mister Graves been missing? Was he even still alive? Where was he?

And how did no one notice he was gone? How had _she_ not noticed?

So when Picquery announced they would be looking for the real Graves; she volunteered. But after a week of non-stop searching, looking all over Graves’ apartment, his office, and nearly every dark and disgusting place in New York there was still nothing.

Tina sat at the table at home, looking down at the cup of cocoa Queenie had made her. She stared at the bubbles floating on the top and sighed quietly.

“You’ll find him.” Queenie said quietly and Tina looked up at her. She was greeted with a small smile, reassuring but it did nothing to calm her.

As expected Grindelwald wouldn’t talk.  Veritaserum was too weak compared to his Occlumency, he only talked in riddles to reveal Graves’ location and it only had the MACUSA running in circles.

***

Tina had returned to Graves’ apartment, looking around again. Checking every closet. Opening every drawer.

There had to be something.

_Anything._

Notes. Papers. Books!

She owed it to him!

Graves had been the one to make sure Picquery hadn’t taken her wand away for attacking Mary-Lou Barebone. He had been strict. And he had been gruff. Believing his job was more important than anything, and he had kept an eye on all the Aurors. He had even tolerated Queenie. Hadn’t yelled too much when she left early in the middle of the week. He wasn’t really _friends_ with anyone in the office but … he had saved Tina’s headstrong ass multiple times. He was the kind of man who went to be an Auror, and did his best to _be_ the best. He would have put himself in the way of any harm coming to them, and it seems that’s exactly what happened. He was gone, and none of them knew.

She owed it to him to find him. Everyone did.

So that was why she had found herself suddenly tearing the house apart. Books were opened and tossed to the floor when nothing came of them, pockets were rifled though, and she was debating to just tear apart the floorboards. There had to be SOMETHING

There just…

There had to be…

There had to…

Tina noticed the mess around her and sunk into a nearby arm chair.

What was she doing?!

How could she tear the man’s house apart!?

She’d have to clean all of this up now. Put it all back. Go back home to Queenie. Have Queenie read her thoughts and realize what she’d done and then she’d have to deal with that too.

Tina placed her head into her hands heaving a sigh. It took a moment before she straightened. Best get it out of the way…

Something caught her eye.

A cigar case sitting on the table beside the chair. Silver and polished, it looked expensive. Tina admired it for a moment before going to pick up the books she had tossed to the side. Carefully closing them and inspecting the now damaged spines, deciding if they ever found Graves she would buy him new books.

She was sure he wouldn’t enjoy reading ruined books after all. She could picture it. Him sitting in the living room with one of these old books, reading it as he tried to wind down from work. The Cigar case open while he lit-

Tina paused. Wait. She dropped the book she was holding and slowly turned to the cigar case. It sat there on the table. Innocent. Anyone would overlook it. Anyone but those who knew.

Those who knew Percival Graves didn’t smoke cigars.

Hesitantly almost as she was scared it would burn her on contact, she reached for the case. It was heavy.

Tina gently pressed on the latch, flicking her wrist the case opened.

Whatever charm that was on the case was immediately broken as she was blinded by a bright light, closing her eyes and dropping the case.

It was a shocking sight, laying on the ground when she opened her eyes, was Percival Graves, laying on his stomach, wearing a dirty short sleeved shirt and his boxers.

She found him!

“Mister Graves!” She called, kneeling down beside him and reached for his shoulder. Something was wrong. There were… large black marks over his arms, too dark to be bruises. She followed the marks down to his hands, his fingers an ugly purple color. Oh no.

Her eyes roamed down him, moving to his legs and a loud gasp escaped her lips. The black marks had continued down his legs, until they reached his knee. Below that, his leg was black. Oh no. Oh NO!

“Mister Graves?” she asked softly, gripping his shoulder to turn him over. Perhaps this was a mistake as a scream of horror ripped from her throat. “Oh Mercy Lewis!” She cried scrambling back from the body.

The black marks continued up to his face, his mouth was… _gone._ The tip of his nose. Parts of his ears. Warped beyond recognition.

There was a moment of stunned silence before the body in front of her started coughing, drawing in breathes desperately and Tina realized with as sense of horror _that Percival Graves was still alive looking like this._

 

 


	2. Loss

                The smell hit him first. He recognized this smell… sterile. Clean. Cold.

_A… hospital?_

                Percival Graves opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the bright light shining in his eyes, and he turned his head away trying avoid it but something tugged on his nose and he stopped. He blinked, trying to make sense of what was going on. The… the last thing he remembered was… _pain. His chest had been hurting. His face had hurt too… someone… had been calling his name? **Tina…**_

Trying to think straight he reached up to figure out what was pulling on his nose, and was surprised at the sight of his hand. It was wrapped up into a large wad of bandages. And then a second hand flashed into view and pulled his arm back down.

                With a sharp gasp Percival sat up, holding his hands up to defend himself from whomever was touching him. The nurse staring back at him looked startled holding up a wand as though afraid if he was going to launch himself at her.

                “W-whe-“ He couldn’t get the word out, his face muscled screamed at him so he closed his mouth, hand reaching up to see what was wrong again but the nurse stopped him a second time.

                “You in the MACUSA medical bay.” She told him softly, eyes flicking away, and hunching her shoulders. “Please lay back down Director Graves.” It was a request, and Graves couldn’t help but wonder if she wanted him to lay down for his benefit or hers.

Still terribly confused, he allowed himself to be pushed back down. He looked at her for answers, but she seemed keen on not answering him, instead running from the room. The moment the nurse was gone, Percival tried to push himself up again, determined to get answers. However a sudden feeling of nausea fell over him and he felt himself fall back, and then nothing.

 

                The second time he woke up, he didn’t feel as pleasant. Everything was sore. Everything hurt. His mouth was dry. His head was pounding. The lights had been dimmed though thankfully. Percival shifted in the bed before a voice startled him.

                “Welcome back Mister Graves.”

Percival turned on his side to see who was talking to him. “M---Madame… Pre…President.” Was that really his voice?

                Seraphina Picquery sat in a chair at his bedside, and she gave him a small smile. “Hello Percival.” She said softly, and Percival closed his eyes, sighing. There was no way she would ever know how good it felt  to hear his name from her lips.

                Forever in the darkness and the silence, simply saying his name…

“Hello Seraphina.” He rasped out, opening his eyes to look at her. They went quiet together, and Graves looked at her questioningly. She understood his question and took a deep breath.

                “Yes. Grindelwald has been captured.”

Graves felt himself relax.

                “He’s being held currently in the MACUSA cells…”

Percival slowly pushed himself up to sit, hissing loudly as his muscles protested, the tube under his nose tugged slightly, but he ignored it. Percival frowned slightly. Something didn’t feel right…

                Before he could question it however the president was talking to him again.

                “Do you know what he did?”

The question caught him off guard, and he blinked. “He impersonated me.”

                “Yes.”

She stared at him, waiting to hear more and he shook his head. “Beyond that I don’t know. Seraphina… you know, you know I didn’t help him… I didn’t give any information willingly”

“I see.” Picquery said quietly, pursing her lips and looking to the ground. “There will be a file made to explain everything he did while pretending to be you.” She ignored his last comment and he felt something heavy set in his chest.

                Graves nodded slowly “…and?” He prompted feeling like there was something more.

The president looked at him, seemingly trying to find the words to tell him something.

                “Mister Grindelwald, while impersonating you; had you locked up in an enchanted cigar case.” She started. “And there were some complications.”

                Percival felt his brows furrow. “Complications?” He looked down at his arms, wrapped in bandages. “You mean these?” Without waiting for an answer he was already trying to unwrap his arms. Picquery opened her mouth to say something but he ignored her, hurriedly unwrapping the dressings incase she tried to stop him. His chest clenched around his heart and he found the air escape him in one startled gasp. His arms, large purple marks stretched over the skin, warped as though he had been burned, his fingers were swollen and dark.

                “What-“

                “It seems, while you were shrunken down inside that case… blood circulation had been cut off.  The Doctors are working as best they can to fix this, already you’re looking much better than you did when they brought you in last week. You should be able to use your hands to full capacity soon and the potions they were giving you while you were asleep sure help with the scarring. They said it would be minimum, hardly noticeable.”

                The words sounded faint as Percival turned his arm over, looking at the dead skin, trying to flex his fingers and found that it hurt. He stopped, instead opting to put the limbs on the sheet covering his body. And he noticed something. Oh no.

                “Unfortunately” She continue quietly. _Oh no._ “Your arms were not the only limbs that had circulation cut off. The Doctor said that you might have some time adjus-” The president words were slowly dying down to background noise as Percival looked at the sheet covering his legs. Or more precisely, the sheet covering the incredibly flat and empty space.

                _“They couldn’t save your leg.”_

The words were said in such a final tone, and the silence that followed was deafening.  

                Graves reached forward slowly, forcing his fingers to bend, ignoring the pain as he grabbed the sheet; pulling it off. His eyes started on his right foot, and he felt his stomach lurched when there wasn’t a left one to accompany it. His eyes slowly trailed up, noticing the purple blotches along his right leg, until he got to his knees. The left leg was wrapped in bandages, and he reached forward hissing quietly as he started to undo them. Seraphina stood up and tried to stop but he looked at her with a glare, without thinking thrusting his hand forward and she was pushed back halfway down the room. Her eyes widened startled but he ignored it as he ripped the gauze off. The amputation was just above his knee, a stump, stitched shut and an ugly line already growing where his knee used to be.

                His hands dropped to his sides as he stared at the stump that was once his leg.

It was _gone._

There was a rush in his ears, and he felt a cold feeling spike in his chest, spreading quickly down to his finger tips and to his remaining toes. He felt himself fall back to the bed unable to movie and Picquery leaned over him.

                “I’m sorry.” She whispered quietly. She murmured something and a darkness overtook him, as he faded he heard “rest Percival.” And then nothing.


	3. Itch

                “He hasn’t moved in a day. He just sits there staring at it.” A voice drifted from the hallway and Graves’ eyes dragged up from his leg, staring at the door. Apparently they forgot he could hear everything they were saying about him.

                When they thought he was asleep he could hear them discussing his arms, and his legs, how the dosage in his potions has to change to make the purple marks fade quicker. He knew that he was missing memories. Things Grindelwald has stolen in an effort to perfect his imitation of Graves and have never given back, they said these memories might return, but only time could tell. He heard that his face was going to need some stitches to fix his lip. A gentle hand pressed to his face and he could barely feel the warped skin of his lip. They hadn’t given him a mirror yet so he figured it would look like his arms…

                When they thought he was staring at where his leg used to be, dead to the world, really he was thinking. Trying to plan around this. Trying to plan out his future, trying to figure out what he was going to do. If he could return to work. If he could somehow extract revenge from Grindelwald. If he could figure out why no one had realized it wasn’t him…

                And he could hear them now. Talking about him again. It seemed he was going to have a visitor. He didn’t want one. He didn’t want anyone else to see him like this, wearing a thin hospital gown, a beard beginning to grow from the skin that was still on his face, hair a mess, body thin, and eyes tired. He felt far from the Percival Graves he had spent years building up.  But no matter his protests, Doctors, Nurses, and Picquery kept coming to see him. Today it sounded like someone different though. And when the door opened, his eyes widened slightly.

                “Tina.” He said softly, the rasp in his voice finally starting to fade.

Tina Goldstein stood in the doorway and she stared at him. Her lips downturned, face pale. There was … something in her eyes. _Fear?_

                “Mister Graves.” She said quietly in greeting. The wand permit secretary took a step forward, holding a file in her hand. “I heard you woke up, and I came to-“ She seemed to have a hard time talking to him, looking at his face.

                Percival caught her eye and she quickly looked away, focusing on the file as she stepped forward and held it out to him. “This is the folder with everything that happened in your absence.” Her voice loud, as though she were forcing herself not to whisper.

Graves reached forward and took the folder from her and tried to catch her eye. “They told me you found me.”

                “Yes sir.” She very purposefully didn’t look at him.

                “What were you doing in my house?”

                “I was part of the search team looking for you… I got reinstated as an auror.” She said quietly, looking at his bedside table.

                He was going to congratulate her but she seemed uncomfortable, shifting on the spot. Probably him. She had seen his face, and his body, he was probably horrifying to look at. Wordlessly he opened the folder and tried to read.

                “Goldstein.” He said as he read, and pretended not to notice the flinch. “Go fetch me a mirror.” He ordered and she looked at him curiously

                “Mister Graves?”   
                “Please.” He continued to read and she took that as a dismissal moving to leave the room wordlessly, seemingly relieved.

                With a reaction like that his hopes that his face wasn’t nearly as bad were slowly diminishing. He distracted himself by reading the report handed to him. It was several reports tossed together by different people in an effort to be thorough.

                Several things stood out to him as he read.

 _Impersonated Director Percival Graves, no one came forward with suspicions._  
Proceeded as normal.   
Obscurus destroyed buildings.   
Girndelwald pretending to be Graves sentenced Tina Goldstein and Newt Scamander to death  
Grindelwald had contact with Credence Barebone, in an effort to find the obscurus.  
Credence Barebone revealed to be Obscurial  
Credence Barebone fired upon by aurors   
Credence Barebone presumed dead  
Grindelwald revealed by Newt Scamander. 

So. A man who had never met him, was suspicious while people Graves had worked for and with for over twenty years hadn’t noticed a thing.

He felt his heart tug at the mention of Credence. He remembered walking up to the boy for the first time after Goldstein had attacked his mother. He remembered asking the boy for help in finding magic children. Grindelwald had exploited that… he had taken Graves’ place and gotten into that boys head. Treated him as an object… He had been the obscurial the entire time, and Graves hadn’t put the pieces together early enough to see it… and now that boy was dead. He placed a hand over his eyes and took a deep breath. _This was his fault._

_He shouldn’t have tried to bring Credence into this. He should have helped him sooner. Should have noticed something was amiss. Shouldn’t have tried to be his friend… He might still be **alive.**_

It took him a moment before he sighed and looked back at the papers. Sentenced Tina Goldstein and Newt Scamander to death. _No wander Tina wouldn’t look at him._ It wasn’t that his face was partially destroyed, it was that his face had told her she was to be killed…

A surprisingly wave of anger washed over him and the paper crumpled in his hand, the temperature in the room rose and the medical equipment beside him rattled on the table loudly. _Grindelwald had made a mess of everything. He killed that poor boy. He ruined Graves’ image. He ruined Graves body._ He had the image of himself marching down to the cells, pulling his wand out and firing at the wizard. A bright green light that would flash across the room and-

                “Mister Graves?”   
  
Percival looked up from the various reports and saw Tina had come back. She was holding a small hand mirror out to him.

                “I don’t think it’s entirely a good idea.” She whispered quietly, and Graves scowled. He reached out and took the mirror anyways.

                “I was told the scarring would be minimal; I may have to have some surgery on my lip to fix how it looks, I’m sure it’s not too bad.”  He lied. He knew it was probably awful. But he couldn’t help it. He _had_ to know. He had to know what he looked like. Had to see what Grindelwald had done to him.

                So the Director brought the mirror up.

                It nearly slipped out of his fingers.

True, the Doctors said it had been much worse when he was brought in… but this looked… he looked… Mercy Lewis… he felt the bile rise up his throat.

                His face, surrounding his mouth was a purple color, twisted and warped, small black spots were left over from where the potions hadn’t sped up the skin regrowth. The dead skin spread up almost all the way up to his eyes, touching the lobes of his ears and the end of his nose. It looked like he was covered in bruises. If it had been worse he could only imagine… the skin must have died and rotted from the lack of circulation… if Tina had found him he was surprised she could stand to look at him at all.

                He lowered the mirror. “Thank you.” He said quietly, shuddering as he thought about the image again.

                “Mister Graves I just… I wanted to say sir, I’m glad you’re back.”

                “I’m sure you’re the only one then.”

The words slide from his lips before he could stop them and he saw Tina’s expression morph from pity to surprise. He curled his lips into a bitter smile. “No one else noticed I was gone.” He continued. “They probably wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t found.” Guilt crossed her features, stepping back as though he had slapped her before her eyes lowered to the ground.

                “I have to get back to work Mister Graves.” She said quietly, and Percival waved her off.

                She left in silence and the director leaned back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. No one had noticed he was missing? If Newt Scamander hadn’t come to New York how long would have this gone on for? If they had realized it sooner would have still lost his leg? Would he be sitting here?

                He reached down to scratch an itch on his shin before realizing there was no shin to scratch. The itch got worse. He groaned and covered his face. 

 

* * *

 

Over the next few days he read the reports again, it was the only thing to do after all. Between noticing Nurses and Doctors were now refusing to look him in the face, trying to ignore the phantom itches, and being forced to sleep via sedatives so the potions could work better… he was growing very bored.

The marks on his arms were finally fading though. So he imagined that the potions were working. A doctor came into check on him and Graves made mention that he needed to do something.

                They brought in crutches for him an hour later.

                “You need to work up your strength again. You’re not allowed to leave the medical bay but you won’t be stuck in a bed anymore.”

                _Great._

                “When will I be able to return to work? “

The answer they gave was not satisfactory. Another month. He might be able to start sleeping at home in a few days though. The scowl he gave the doctor sent them rushing back out into the halls.

                Determined to start recovering sooner rather than later, Graves grabbed the crutches. Eased himself out of the bed and stood on one leg in the middle of the room.

                It was the first time he was out of the bed in a week without having a doctor or nurse half carrying him. It was exhausting.

                _Show no weakness_

He needed to start picking up the pieces that had been shattered around him. He began pacing the room. Swing the crutches. Hop. Swing the crutches. Hop. He got to one wall, and halfway back to the bed before he fell, arms giving out. The Director swore loudly as he crashed to the floor, feeling a flash of pain going through his leg as he landed on his bad thigh. He curled around it as the room faded in and out. He tried to push himself up but was too weak to try, slumping back to the cold tiles. He closed his eyes… only for a second to gain back his strength.

                He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

It was the first time he slept without a sedative to give him dreamless sleep. He was somewhere… dark. And tight. Panic set in. People were standing staring at him. He was on his knees, trying to stand but he couldn’t. Something pressed against his back preventing him from standing. His heart started to pound.  He called for help. But the faces just stared at him is distain. Watching as he struggled. His blood rushed in his ears, sounding like a roar of a wave. Pressing against the darkness but it pressed back. Squishing him. Preventing him from moving. And there was laugh echoing in his head. _His_ laugh. The darkness pressed tighter and he cried out for help but no one came.

                He begged for the people to help him. “Seraphina! Tina! Jake! Abernathy! Anyone! _Help me!’_ He begged, trying to reach out but they just kept watching him as Grindelwald’s laughter echoed around him before the darkness pressed him into nothing.

                Percival woke on the bed, a cold sweat coating him as he felt his heart hammering in his chest, hard enough that it hurt. An itch! He reached down to scratch, but there was no skin to scratch, and he gripped at his knee, trying to ignore the feeling of something digging into his non-existent leg, the pain that came from it; he scratched dangerously close to the stitches, trying to end the feeling of pin pricks, he just wanted it to end. He screamed in frustration when the itch consumed his entire leg, the digging feeling taking over his entire shin. He didn’t realize his fingertip were covered in blood until he felt doctors grabbing his wrists to pull him away from his leg and he was knocked out again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome


	4. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will finally kick off in the next chapter, Graves will seem a bit more human.   
> Feel free to leave comments

This was getting ridiculous. Ever since Tina Goldstein’s visit, it seemed anyone who did come to visit, refused to look him in the eye. A few of his investigation aurors came by to see how he was but it seemed they were always more excited to _leave_ rather than to see him. It made him itch to get back to work. To sit behind his desk. To bark orders at his employees. To investigate. He had asked Picquery when he would interrogated, filed, and put back to work.

                She had explained he had already been interrogated. They had used Legilimency to go through his mind while he was asleep. The had dug around in his head to ensure he hadn’t betrayed them to Grindelwald… the man who had done the task had to go home after he realized what torture Graves had gone through. Percival had been about to get angry at them for doing it without his consent. The President had interrupted him to explain he was too powerful an occlumen to try and see if he was telling the truth when he was awake.

                He was currently being filed, health reports and the results of the interrogation was being filled out. It was taking a while as Graves had a month’s worth of memories to sort through. He ground his back teeth together until she assured him they didn’t look anywhere past the day he was captured.

                As for when he would be put back to work. Her words were “when you are well enough to work.”

No amount of saying “I’m well enough” seemed to sway her decision to put him back in the office anytime soon.

“You’re missing a leg.”

“So I won’t take any field jobs.”

“You’re still recovering skin from when the tissue died.”

“I can heal from behind a desk.”

“You’re not mentally ready to return back to work.”

“I am fine!”

She continued to tell him no.

So the Director continued to sit in his bed, staring at the wall while he healed, when he wasn’t trying to bride nurses into bringing him files and paper work, he was often pacing around the room on his crutches. He was going stir crazy in here. Between the _itch_ to get back to work and the _itch_ in his nonexistent leg he was about ready to rip his hair out.

Which was starting to grow out and get shaggy on the sides, and the beard growth he was sporting made him look unkept. It was all just beginning to piss him off. Nurses were beginning to avoid him room now… he could hear them arguing over who went to talk to him. This was nothing new. He had never been a good patient when he was in the medical bay. But this time he seemed more agitated.

He was missing his _leg_ he was fully allowed to be angry at everyone, he reckoned.

Tina came to visit again. Just to tell him what was going on. She didn’t seem to enjoy looking at him still. But she had put in far more effort than anyone else to keep him updated. After a week of this though he asked her to bring him some clothes to wear. The request was met with a blink, and her telling him (once again) she didn’t think it was a good idea.

“I don’t care if you think if it’s a good idea Tina. I want to feel human! Pair or trousers and a shirt.” He snapped and the tone had sent her out of his room. He heard her out in the hall asking the nurse if it was a good idea. He slapped a hand to his face with a groan.

He was presented with a pair of pajama bottoms and a shirt the next day.

The leg of the pajama pants had to be rolled up at all times though so the doctors could keep an eye on his leg.

Good enough.

He was wearing those now.

It wasn’t ideal, but he could accept that for now.

The request for a razor and a pair of scissors were denied still though.

Another two days of pacing, and potions, salves, and bandages, Graves was finally able to wander around without dressing on his arms. The black marks were starting to fade finally, now light purple, but even those marks were starting to bleed away. The scarring, true to the Doctor’s words were starting to die down, smooth out. Their magic lotions speeding the fading process.

“No you can _not_ go back to work.”

The request had been denied and he ground his back teeth together angrily. They wanted to keep him in here. They also wanted him to start talking to one of their councilors, to help him “adjust”

It lasted a day before he angrily cussed the therapist out of his room and locked them out.

The doctors were still pumping medication through him, he was still falling asleep randomly, but other than that he assumed he was fine!

He scratched at his knee idly, trying to get rid of the itch beginning to drive him mad again; before he made a split decision.

The Director could no longer sit here. He couldn’t just _waste away_ doing NOTHING.

His diet was back on track (mostly), his sleep schedule would be fixed (eventually), his emotional state would sort itself out (one day) and his leg would not hinder him anymore than it already had. He wouldn’t let it!

It didn’t quite occur to him what he was doing until he found himself hobbling on his crutches out the door, and down the hall. So far he hadn’t run into any doctors or nurses and he rushed his way to the elevator. It took only a moment as the elevator started to come down for him… and he heard a shout behind him. Graves hobbled into the elevator and ignoring the Goblin bellboy inside and forced the doors closed. “Main floor Red.” He ordered. “No stops on the way.”

The Goblin blinked at Graves, looking him over as he pulled the lever. “You’re looking good Director.”

Percival couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“They let you out?”

“In a way.” Graves said, leaning against the wall of the lift; it took him a moment to balance himself before he leaned down and tied the remaining fabric into a knot on the bottom of his knee so it wouldn’t drag behind him.

Red remained quiet after that and Graves eyed him over his shoulder for a moment. He was half tempted to ask Red if he had noticed anything. If the Goblin had known.

The door opened before he could decide properly and he hobbled his way out. He was making his way to his office, purposely ‘walking’ through the main floor. Aurors and employees who had been busily running around and talking loudly noticed him as he walked by. They slowed their walks, and the talking turned silent. The whole floor went quiet as Graves walked through the hall. The sound of his crutches making loud thuds as he moved.

He heard the whispers start. Hushed tones behind his back. He stopped walking.

“I want a casefile on Grindelwald.” He announced to the room and the whispers died. “I want a file all on everything that I missed. I want a reference to _everything_ that happened while I was gone. I want to know what everyone was doing, I want to know what _he_ was doing! I want to know ever office purchase, everyone wand permit written, every arrest, every injury.”

He shifted around to turn to look at the room. Everyone was staring at him. But anytime he looked over at someone’s face, trying to catch their eye, they quickly looked away.

 _“Well!?”_ He demanded. “ **Look at me!”** Percival snapped at the poor auror standing closest to him. They flinched. “ ** _All of you! Look at me!”_** His voice rose and echoed through the room. **_“Take a good long look! You’re all going to have to get used to it anyways!”_** Slowly people’s eyes managed to be dragged up and they met his eyes with something of fear. **_“I am ashamed of each of you.”_** Graves informed them, doing another awkwardly slow turn. “ ** _I constantly brag about how good my teams are. How competent my employees are. How reliable everyone at MACUSA is. And not ONE of you noticed I was missing. NOT ONE.”_** His voice bellowed through the hall. **_“Not a single person here, noticed something was wrong. So take a good long look! I’m back in the office, and you all owe me. You need to prove to me that you’re worthy of being here. I know you aren’t used to taking orders from me anymore, but you will get back into that habit! NOW GET ME THOSE FILES.”_**

His shout startled them into action and they started moving around. Director Graves wasn’t normally rough with his employees, he normally didn’t talk to his underlings like that; but the anger of being stared at like some sort of freakshow participant…

Percival looked around before continuing to hobble to his office. He unlocked the door and slammed it shut behind him. He looked around; everything still seemed to be in place… it all looked the same. The trinkets on the shelves. The books on his desk. But it felt… cold. Strange. Like it wasn’t his office.

He collapsed into his chair, head leaning back and his eyes closed as a wave of fatigue washed over him. A wave of his hand and the bottle and tumbler he kept to the side of his office floated to his desk and he poured a glass. A sip of the brandy inside and his savored the burn; letting out a sigh as the glass landed on the desk. He’d kill for a cigarette. He begins looking through his desk for one when the door to his office is practically blasted open.

Seraphine Picquery stormed her way into his office.

“What do you think you are doing!?”

Percival watched her, expression bored. “I’m working.” He said flatly, not wanting to get into this argument but feeling it coming on. He sat there; taking every insult, and every threat she threw at him. Demanding he go back downstairs to the doctors.

“I am perfectly well enough to work! If they want to keep looking at me, they can come up here!”

“You don’t have a _leg_ Graves. How are you planning on working like that?”

“I’ll get a new one.”

She stared at him with her lips pressed tightly together, and he could imagine the steam coming out of her ears. She knew he wasn’t going to back down.

_“Shave before you come into work tomorrow.”_

 


	5. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone leaving comments and kudos on my work! I really appreciate it!

                He stared down at the leg, having mixed feelings about it. It latched on with a belt, lacing up the remainder of his leg. His fingers trailed over the lip of the fake socket for the knee. It was crudely made for the moment. It would be made better later. It was as the doctors kept saying “A rush job” because he demanded it _now._

                It would work until they had a better design for field jobs. It would be better, a charm placed on the ankle and knee joints to make it work better, and fit more comfortable than a common No-Maj prosthetic. He should count himself lucky. But Percival was feeling anything but.

                The ‘rough draft’ of his new leg itched around his thigh, and it was still sore around the freshly healed wounds. They were all closed up now; but still tender. He was told that feeling would go away hopefully in a month.

                His arms were still a bit of a mess, but he figured once he was dressed he would be able to ignore that when the marks were back under a suit. His face… was another story. He would have to get a good look in the mirror once he shaved before he was able to assess the damage.

                Idly the Director thought about going home, and all the things he wanted to do when he _finally_ got back as he let nurses continue to make notes and prod at him; asking about how everything felt. And finally the door opened and Tina came in. And oh like an angel she was, carrying a fresh set of clothes for him to wear. Real clothes. Not the pajamas they had let him wear. It wasn’t his fully outfit, that would be a waste since he was planning on going home and having a bath. He was told not to shower. Until he was more used to having only one leg; the doctor’s advised him not to overdo himself.  

                “Thank you, Tina.” He said quietly as he took the clothes, noting as the doctor walked off, finally leaving him be.

Percival unfolded the clothes on the bed, looking at them for a moment and just thinking about how long it had been since he had worn one of his suits… months? His fingers brushed the fabric without him fully realizing it. Tina’s voice surprised him out of it.

                “…Do you need…help…Mister Graves?” Tina asked softly and Percival turned to look at her. She was looking at his chin, still unable to look him in the eye. But she was getting better. She seemed to be putting in more of an effort to make sure he was alright. More than the other aurors that was for sure.

                “No. Thank you, Tina.” He said offering a smallest hint of a smile. “I should get used to doing things on my own again.”

                Tina glanced up to meet his eyes and her smile crossed her features for a second before she gave a nod. “Yes sir.” And she turned on her heel to let him dress in peace.

                The silence was suddenly loud, and the soft sigh Percival gave bounced off the walls. It was incredibly awkward getting the pantleg over the prosthetic. Tina could probably hear the swearing outside. He sat on the bed, taking a moment to get his breath back. It had been a hassle trying not to tip over…

                The shirt was easy. And he was glad to see those purple and red marks gone from sight. He played with the cuffs on the shirt. He supposed he had best get going and pushed himself off the bed; his hand reaching for the black cane they had given him. It was to help with the limp. Already he hated it.

                But he gripped it tightly and half hobbled his way to the door. Tina standing outside attentively.

                “You don’t have to do this.” He informed her, he didn’t want to be taken care of… it made him feel… weak. But his auror shook her head.

                “Sir, I’m not letting you head home by yourself…”

Percival gave a small laugh at that before just shaking his head, before hobbling back to the elevator, Tina walking patiently by his side.

                Red congratulated on him leaving (properly this time) but otherwise the ride up was quiet. The silence was suddenly pressing on his chest. Percival frowned. _Why is this happening now? It was worse yesterday… it was worse when he was missing a leg, dressed in pajamas, shouting at everyone._ If anything; he should be feeling more confident… not like something was in his belly trying to crawl its way up his stomach.

                The door opened to the main floor and Tina looked at him, waiting to follow him out. Of course she was. Percival took a deep breath, before taking that first step out of the elevator. Another step. Another step. Was that him breathing so hard?

                Percival could feel eyes on him, and he kept his head held up high; trying not to show how uncomfortable he was. He met the eyes of anyone who would dare to look him in the face. And he saw every time someone looked at that blasted cane.

                After a moment however though, he felt a soft weight pressing against his arm, and he glanced over. Tina had stepped closer to him, maybe meaning to, maybe not, but the sudden warmth against his arm was… comforting. Together they walked through the front hall, and outside. It was sunny, and the director raised his arm to shield his eyes. He closed his eyes and just felt it wash over him. It was the first time he felt sunlight on his skin in forever it seemed. Had it always been so warm? So…nice? Slowly his eyes opened and his arm lowered. Fresh air. Sunlight. It was… beautiful.

                “Mister Graves, are you ready to go?” Tina asked him and he looked over at her before holding his arm out in a silent agreement. And she took his arm before they apparated. The feeling was familiar and alien all at once, he wobbled as they landed; falling back against the brick of a wall. Tina’s hands were gripping his shoulders as though he might fall over into the street but he gently pushed her off, as everything spun.

                “I’m fine.” The director insisted; pushing himself off the wall. Tina hovered and he fought back the urge to growl at her. “I’m _fine.”_ He said again, perhaps a bit harsher than he intended to as she stepped back startled.

                “Go back to work Goldstein.” He ordered with a huff. “I can take care of everything else from here.”

                “Sir-“ She began to argue but his held came up and he waved her off. Already he could tell that she didn’t like that, and he would probably regret it later… but for the meantime, she nodded before turning around and leaving without a goodbye.

                Percival watched her go; grinding his back teeth together in irritation before he turned and walked out of the ally. He froze when he exited and looked at his newest greatest enemy.

                The stairs up to the front door.

It took him a solid minuet to get up the stairs; not having used them since his leg was removed, and he felt ridiculous.

                His hand tightly gripped the door handle; and that feeling came back. The heavy weight on his chest, settling in; making everything cold. They had told him Grindelwald had stayed in his house while he was captured. Grindelwald had been here. In his home. His one place of safety…

                The cold feeling giving way to a heat in his belly that suddenly shot up his throat and Percival found himself doubling over to get sick on grass beside the stairs. He gripped at the handrailing; closing his eyes and counting back from five.

                Grindelwald had been here. In his home. But it was still _his_ home. At least that was what he was telling himself as he undid the wards and opened the door. Perhaps he should get a key. Lock it like the No-Maj’s… Key and some wards, new spells. Just making it difficult for everyone to break in. _Again._

                Percival stared inside, seeing the dark hallway greet him. Had it always been this dark? He stepped inside and felt the silence start to close around him as the door clicked shut. Step forward. Step forward.

                He was home. And it looked the same. Spacious. Expensive pieces of furniture… Although now it felt completely different.

Cold.

Lonely.

                He walked into the sitting room, looking around; eyes falling on his bookshelf, the books were all out of order… Had that happened when They were looking for him or had Grindelwald taken his books out? His eyes trailed over and to the table… the chairs… _he sat in those._ Graves could picture it. Had he put his feet up and enjoyed himself in those chairs? Had he eaten in those chairs? He briefly wondered as his gaze turned towards the kitchen door, and he limped forward to inspect it.

                So far, on the surface, everything seemed alright… But who knows how everything looked once he started to go through it…

                He would do that later… he was tired.

Weighing the pros and cons of if Percival wanted to bathe first or sleep first, the decision was made for him when he found himself moving to the bathroom to look in the mirror.

_Bath first we look like a complete mess._

His hair was long and shaggy now, the sides long enough to almost touch his ears. Heavy black circles under his eyes, and the beard which was growing in patches was hiding _most_ of the damage to his cheeks and chin. He looked oily. Almost like he hadn’t showered in a week. _He hadn’t._

With a heavy sigh, Percival pushed himself away from the sink. Giving a small wave of his hand and behind him he could hear the water turning on.

                Steam filled the bathroom, and the plug was placed in the tub. By the time the water had filled up, Percival had taken the fake leg off and set it to the side. Balancing on the edge of the sink, he looked down at the knee and large scar crossing over his skin. His fingers brushed over it; and he felt that familiar itch.

                The Doctors had told him the itch was all in his mind, and would fade either in time, or if he needed help… therapy would ease the annoyance.

He didn’t need therapy.

Carefully he hopped his way to the tube, sitting on the edge a moment before slipping inside.

“Oh Mercy Lewis.” He breathed aloud, the water rising up around him, an ache making itself known in his shoulder blades as knotted muscles started to relax and uncoil. That cold feeling was seeping away, replaced with a pleasant heat. Percival leaned his head back against the lip of the tub, closing his eyes, and allowed himself to float there. Blocking out the sounds of his creaking house around him. Forcing himself to stop thinking… A deep breath as he inhaled the steam and felt the furrow that had seemed permanently etched into his brow for the last three days relax.

                It was just him… and the water.

                Just him.

He was so relaxed… alone. It was easy enough to accidently drift off into sleep.

                At first it was fine.

                He lay there in nothing, in a sea of black. It was just him. It wasn’t like when he was in the case… this wasn’t a tight dark space where he couldn’t breathe. No this place was… _endless._ Huge. And he was content to float there. Empty. It wasn’t _dark_ there just wasn’t anything to see. A feeling of safety followed him as he floated out into nothingness. It was the first nice dream he had, had. Every other dream where he hadn’t been pumped full of pain killers had been awful. Filled with Grindelwald at every turn. Places where he couldn’t move. A darkness swallowing him whole.

                But there was … nothing.

And then… the cold came.

                Pleasantry melted away as Graves felt an unbearable cold start to seep in. Clutching at his chest, and dragging his breath away. He couldn’t breathe! Panic came to him in a flash, and he thrashed in the darkness, trying to find something to hold on to. Trying to ground himself but there was nothing! All the open space and it felt like something was squeezing him, pushing everything tightly to the point where he couldn’t twitch his fingers.

                He screamed. Or at least he tried. Something forced its way down his throat.

Percival’s eyes shot open, and he sat up in the tub, gagging on the water that he had inhaled, clutching at his chest, and the side of the tub, anything to get the water out of his lungs. Coughing harshly before he was able to sit back against the tub wall again, staring around the bathroom as though searching for an unseen assailant.

                _No no no no_

That feeling of fear was back in him again, twisting his insides around, and Percival felt his hands grip his hair, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to push it back.

“Stop it! Stop it Graves!” He snapped at himself, but found it didn’t help.

                He sat in the tub until the water turned cold. Shivering in the water as he fought with himself. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he pulled himself out… awkwardly hopping his way out of the tub… back over to the sink. He stared himself in the mirror, glaring at the pathetic excuse for a man he saw there.

                “Damnit.” Was muttered under his breath, before openin the cabinet. He grabbed his shaving tools.

                _We’ll feel better after we shave and get dressed._

                Yeah right.

                The glide of the straight razor against his skin was not nearly as smooth as it should have been. He nicked himself a few times due to shaking hands, but eventually the hair was gone. He didn’t trust his hands enough to cut and shave the sides of his hair, so he leaned against the sink, holding his hands up and flexing his fingers.

_Concentrate._

                Scissors floated into the air, and he focused. Soon he looked… almost normal.

But he was going to bed now.

His plans of putting on that damn leg, and a suit ruined. He was too exhausted to try and continue his day. It was only a bit late into the evening, but he was fully ready for this day to be done with.

                So with a towel wrapped around his waist, Percival Graves grabbed his cane and left his leg in the bathroom. He didn’t want to deal with the hassle of putting it on, only to take it off again in less than a minute.

                So he hobbled, and jumped his way down the hall. The loud thuds echoing loudly and he was glad he lived alone.

                The lights flickered on when he was in the bedroom. And Percival sank to the floor as a feeling of nausea came back over him. He sank against the doorframe, and weakly his hands pressed against his eyes as he felt them start to water and sting.

                His head pounded and he fought every urge not to puke right there on the floor.

 

The bed.

The bed was unmade.

He had always made a habit of making the bed before he left the house. Percival had made the bed the day he had been captured.

_Grindelwald had slept in his bed._


	6. Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a really short chapter to move stuff along

                “We should invite him over for dinner.” Queenie’s words startled her out of her thoughts and Tina looked up from the report she had brought home; looking up at her sister who was starting dinner.

                Tina’s question was answered before it even left her lips.

                “Mister Graves.” Queenie said simply, giving a delicate little shrug.

The answer did nothing for her confusion. The question changing from who to “Why?”

                “He seems like he could use it.” Queenie answered honestly.

Tina felt slight disbelief go through her. “I’m sure Mister Graves is busy and doesn’t have time for dinner…and I’m sure he doesn’t want to waste his time, coming _here_ and trying to sneak in…not to mention he’s my _boss_ Queenie.” She highly doubted her would want to have dinner with her and Queenie. He was an important man who probably had a lot of work to do and better things to concentrate on…Like recovering from Grindelwald…it had only been a short amount of time after he was welcomed back into the office after all…

                Queenie waved her hand in front of Tina’s face and she blinked, jerking back out of her thoughts again.

                “You’re thinking too hard about it Teenie.” Queenie said with a small knowing smile. “Just ask him over for dinner…he’ll probably appreciate it.”

                “Why do you think Mister Graves would want to come have dinner here?”   
                “He’s lonely Tina.” Queenie said softly. “He just got out of the hospital; he’s convinced that no one missed him while he was away… he thinks he’s weak, he thinks he’s failed everyone, especially himself… Mister Graves could use a friend because right now he’s sure he doesn’t have any.”

                Tina went quiet for a moment, absorbing this information before shaking her head, and she knew by the small smile on Queenie’s face told her that Queenie knew she was about to agree to inviting him over.

                “But Queenie.” Tina said before Queenie could say anything else. “You really shouldn’t be reading Mister Graves’ mind…”

                Queenie simply shook her head. “I don’t need to read his mind when he’s screaming it at all of New York to hear…”


	7. Dinner

                His desk was covered in coffee cups, and they all nearly got knocked over with the loud knock on his door.

                Percival blinked sitting up in his desk and realized that he had dozed off. Again. This was getting ridiculous… He was having a hard time falling asleep at night now… he had cleaned the bedroom, and actually gotten new sheets and blankets. But it didn’t seem to be enough. He was still tossing and turning, fighting nightmares and trying to push at the darkness that kept trying to squish him.

                He was debating going to get sleeping powder from a healer…

Percival shook his head and called that the door was open and he was surprised when Tina poked her head in. She seemed nervous, holding the door in front of her as though trying to hide behind a shield.

                “Tina?” He greeted, waiting for her to walk in. It took her a moment… and Percival frowned, concerned for his auror.

                She stepped into the office, closing the door behind her and walked up to his desk. He braced himself for the worst news imaginable, prepared to leap into action to help her. Tina cleared her throat.

                “Mister Graves, Queenie and I were wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner on Friday..?”

                Of all the things that he was expecting, that was not one of them. For a moment the Director wondered if he heard her correctly…

                “…You’ve come into my office in the middle of a shift to ask me over for dinner?” He asked slowly to clarify, already feeling his brows starting to furrow.

Tina quickly straightened her back and declared that she was on her coffee break, and figured best to get it out of the way early so she wasn’t trying to track him down later. Percival watched her for a moment and he an inkling of a feeling that she was lying. She wasn’t on break, and she certainly wasn’t trying to make the rest of her day easier. She was too nervous for that. So this must have been Queenies’ idea.

                Graves was planning on saying no. He was much too busy, and often didn’t enjoy socializing more than necessary…However… when was the last time he had a well cooked meal? Not something he had quickly made in an effort to feed himself to make the nagging doctor’s happy? How long had it been since he _had_ socialized at all? Not to mention, his upbringing told him, it would have been incredibly rude to turn down the offer. His mother would have scolded him and the nannie would have smacked him up the backside of the head for being rude.

He sighed heavily. “What time on Friday?”  

***

Percival had been about to knock on the door to the building address Tina had given him; but the door opened before his hand landed. Tina stood at the door and quickly put a finger to her lips. He closed his mouth from his greeting, blinking slowly, before giving a small nod.

Tina took his arm, and led him up a set of stairs, his temporary cane hooked on his arm. He remained quiet, looking at her questioningly before being gently pushed into the upstairs flat. Tina let out a soft breath before turning to Percival.

                “Sorry Sir… Mrs Esposito, the landlady doesn’t want us bringing men home.” Tina said awkwardly. She pressed her lips tightly together, looking at him a bit with wide eyes as though surprised she had just said that.

                “I see.” Percival said quietly, really not sure what else he could say on the matter. However now he was curious about what would happen if he got caught here. “… I take it you have put on a silencing spell then.”

                Tina gave a nod, opened her mouth and then closed it, unsure of what to say. However the moment of awkwardness was cut off when Percival heard the bubbly cheer of

                “Mister Graves!” He turns to look over his shoulder to see the grinning face of Queenie Goldstein. For her sake he tried to smile back.

                “Miss Goldstein.” He offered with a small nod.

                “Oh please Mister Graves, none of that while you’re in our home…” Queenie waved her hand. “Queenie. You already call Teenie, Tina.”

                Percival blinked, looking at the other Goldstein sister. “ _Teenie?”_ There was the barest hint of a smile on his lips. It only grew when Tina got a light dusting of pink on her cheeks; she quickly brushed past him into the kitchen.

                “It’s nice to see you finally out of the office.” Tina said moving onto a new topic. “Even if it is in my house.” There is a teasing hint in her tone and Percival raised an eyebrow in surprise but he found himself smirking.

                “I must admit it’s nice to finally be out of the office… even if it is in your house.”

Tina and Queenie were treated to the rare sight of his rare grin.

                “And its about to get better. Dinner.” Queenie said finishing up with a flick of her wand and the Director turned to watch the food finish cooking, floating out to plates and finally to the table.

Percival smiled, waiting for his hosts to sit before seating himself. “It looks… delicious.” He said quietly. And it did. His mouth watered at the sight of potatoes with melted butter, small roast cut into fine slices with gravy on the side, and there was dessert… _pie?_ Set off to the side.

                “Thank you.” Queenie said off to the side and Percival gave a small laugh. He supposed he would have to be careful with his thoughts, least he give away how thankful he is. He glanced at Queenie out of the corner of his eye and sees her nose scrunch up and she gets a wide smile.

                He hadn’t seen food that looked this good since he was at home… a boy… School days. Of course he had been out to dinner, and yes he had been to MACUSA parties with food aplenty. But it wasn’t the same. Made to please multiple hundreds of people without that personal touch.

This was… This was nice.

Percival pulled a heaping serving on his plate as did the two witches.

However as he was eating he was struck by the sudden thought… he had nothing to  talk about with the other two expect work.

                “… So. Tina.” He started and saw her look up from a forkful of potatoes. “How are you liking being an auror again?”                

                She got a nervous little smile. “Its great Mister Graves, Sir.  I’m very happy to have my position back.”

                “She’s been so much more upbeat, Mister Graves.” Queenie chimed in much to Tina’s embarrassment.

                “That’s good.” Percival offered a bit awkwardly. “And… Mister Scamander? He’s off back for his Ministry?” He asked, admittedly not knowing what exactly Mister Scamander did.

                “I think he’s finishing up his book.” Tina said. “I haven’t heard from him in a wh-“

                “He’s coming to visit.”

Percival and Tina both paused and looked to the blond haired Goldstein sister. She shrugged a shoulder. “I got the post today while you were at work… He’s coming to visit.” She gave a smirk to Tina. “Something about delivering the first copy of his book in person.”

                Percival certainly didn’t miss the blush that crossed her cheeks.

                “It’ll be nice to finally meet the man who helped capture Grindelwald.” Percival said to get rid of the silence that had taken over the room.

                “Yes. Oh Mister Graves I think you two will get along quite well.” Queenie said, ignoring the look Tina seemed to be giving her.

                “I guess we’ll see.” Percival said before putting a forkful of roast in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how exactly he would get along with Mister Scamander… after all… from what he had read about the man… Newt Scamander didn’t really seem like the type of man who would really be one for following the laws as strictly as Percival would like him to.

                Tina gave a slow nod. Judging from the small laugh Queenie gave, it seemed Tina was apparently the same thing.

                Percival gave a laugh.

                Both the girls couldn’t help but smile.

 


End file.
